


Engaged.

by hennethgalad



Series: Hador Lórindol. [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, getting engaged.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Hador realises that he is Mortal, and turns to Gildis.





	Engaged.

 

Engaged.

 

   Hador sat beneath the neatly trimmed tree in the formal courtyard at Himring, listening to the shouting from the Hall of Maedhros, where the brothers were in council, arguing among themselves, and with Fingolfin. He was relieved not to be in there himself, but after courteous greetings, the Feanorians had politely ignored him. There were very few Mortals in the household of Maedhros, none in his service, and only a few exceptional scholars, studying with experts, with little time for him, or indeed anything but their arcane work.

 

   From the high windows of the Hall of Fire across the immaculate courtyard, the music rose to a climax. There was a moment of silence, as the piece ended, and then a cacophony of sound as the musicians released their tension, packed away their instruments and poured out into the sunlight. They had been rehearsing all morning, and the piece, a new composition, was finally ready.

   Gildis was there, laughing with a fellow, her face flushed and happy, her eyes sparkling with joy, unaware of his existence. He might have been a statue... He was so accustomed to being at the centre of attention, he found it almost shocking to see such happiness, happiness that would have been had he never been born, happiness from which he was excluded.

 

   He rose to his feet, filled with determination to turn that smile towards himself, to see those eyes sparkle at him, to be included. But more than that, he needed to be with another Mortal, to feel less like a stranger, to hear familiar words and thoughts, to be at home.

   Gildis turned her head and saw him, then paused, searching his face. He smiled, but knew that his loneliness was visible, and dropped his eyes. When he looked up, the courtyard had emptied and Gildis, harp in hand, was approaching him with a concerned smile.

 

   “How is it with you, Hador Lórindol, are there bad tidings ?”

   “Lady Gildis ! No, all is well.” He glanced at the Hall of Maedhros and grinned “No worse, at any rate. But I... I would beg a little of your time, my lady, for these Elves... In truth, I fear that I am homesick.” He frowned “Not for my home in Hithlum, nor for Barad Eithel, but for the company of Mortals, for... I cannot say...”

   She smiled “There is no need, for I have lived in Nargothrond, and understand perfectly the mood you speak of. I had intended to eat with the musicians, but perhaps you will dine with me instead. There is a wooded hill to the North, the Elves have left it untouched, it is natural and pretty, we could take food with us ?”

   “Oh, would you ? Thank you, my lady. May I carry your harp for you ?”

   She gripped the precious harp tightly “I... It was a gift from Finrod Felagund, I cannot bear to...” she looked up at him, her eyes thoughtful. “Thank you, my lord. I know that you will bring no harm to it.”

 

   Hador felt a strange pride as she laid the oddly-shaped case in his arms. Her trust seemed a greater honour than any he had received, although Braig had been a mighty gift. As though she could read his thought like an Elf, she looked up at him.

   “But why are you not riding Braig ? Are you weary of him so soon ?”

   Hador pursed his lips “Alas, it is Braig who has wearied of me ! They have him safe in the stables, and I am forbidden to ride him until three days have passed. They have offered me the pick of the herd, but I cannot endure the rebuke in his eyes...”

   She laughed “Never mind ! We shall visit the kitchens, and you shall charm the cooks into lading us with delicacies, and you shall tell me your troubles beneath the shade of the trees.”

 

 

   He ate enormously, the cooks had given them enough for four, but their skill was such that he could not stop himself from tasting every dish, and finishing most of them. Gildis too was hungry, the musicians worked hard, each one a perfectionist. He was suddenly bashful to be in the presence of one who, despite her youth, could play alongside the immortal Elves, many of whom had been studying since before the shaping of Sun and Moon. He picked up his goblet and drank more of the fruit cordial that the Elves mixed with spring-water, cool and delicious.

   “What is this cordial ?” He asked her “I mean, which fruit is it from ?”

   She shrugged “I have no notion ! You spend more time in the kitchen than I do, you must ask one of your devoted admirers there.” She grinned at him, and he lowered his gaze again. It was odd that she could make him feel so young and callow, he who had locked eyes with the High King so many times.

 

   She was eating grapes. Maedhros had a house of glass, more precious than jewels, on the South slope of the hill, in which he grew grapes, peaches and the strange herbs that the Elves used in their finest miruvor, as close as they could come to the true flavour of lost Valinor. Seeing his gaze she held out the small basket to him, and he plucked a grape from the stem.

   “Grapes !” She exclaimed “How they love you in the kitchens ! These are reserved for the High Table, for Maedhros himself. But here you are, a Mortal, charming the very food from his plate !”

   “I did not ask for these ! Indeed, I had not tasted them until we came here. Fingolfin says there is too much cloud and rain in Mithrim, even were there a house of glass.”

   “We had them in Nargothrond once, a ship from Arverien had come to Eglarest, and I had my first taste. They are marvellous, and the wine they produce... But still, I prefer our Northern fruits, the strawberry, the raspberry...”

   He nodded and took another grape. When she smiled at him, he felt more at home than he could remember feeling since the death of his great-grandfather Aradan. He wondered if it was because she was an Elf-friend, who had seen through the half-open door into their eerie world, as he had, and shared his feeling that there could be no return.

 

   “Do you think you will always live among them?” He asked her, but she understood him. It was impresive how well she knew him, he thought, little thinking that all the time he had been with Fingolfin, she, along with the rest of the court, had been watching him.

   She smiled with half-closed eyes “No. It is my intention to return to my people, to our people, to use the skill and knowledge that they have taught me to make music that captures what it is to be Mortal, to live and love not endlessly, as they do, but for the fleeting time that is given us. But more than this, I must return to our people in order that the many years that lie ahead of me do not feel so fleeting. I wish to hear the speech of those for whom a year is a long time, not a mere heartbeat.”

  “Oh my lady, forgive me. I have... You have told me this, and I have heard you tell it to others, and still I forgot. But...” he paused and frowned “It is strange, today I feel as though we were meeting for the first time. Indeed, when I saw you in the courtyard this morning, laughing with your friends, it was... I felt that I had never seen you before, that I did not know you at all.”

   “You have been busy. I have been busy. But now there is nothing that you must be doing, you are at a loss, and have time to look around you. Is this place not lovely ?”

 

   He looked around at the little clearing. A fallen tree mouldered into the carpet of green that had flowed over it like the rising tide. The sunlight broke through the thick canopy and had filled the glade with woodland flowers, yarrow, campion, bellflower, wild strawberries and arching brambles. To the South, the ground dropped away, and the sky could be seen, blue through the tall dark trunks of the ancient trees. They sat on a rug laid on the moss, soft as cushions, listening to the late-fledging birds pleading for food, as large as the adults, but nervous of the journey into the unknown.

 

   “It is beautiful, and very peaceful. Is there anywhere like this where you come from ? Where do you come from ?”

   She laughed at him, and ate another grape, but this time he did not look away, and the smile left her face.

   “No, my home is on the Western slopes of Ered Wethrin, among the pines. My father manages the forest, sending the cut timber down to the woodyards. There are glades, of another kind of beauty, the flowers are smaller and... quieter. But I am tired of the scent of resin, and have come to love the soft green of the lowlands, and the large bright flowers. But will you tell me of your home ?”

   “I thought it a palace as a child, and I considered my great-grandfather to be the greatest, wisest being in all Arda. But then I saw Barad Eithel, the domes and spires, the halls and colonnades, the endless corridors, and I realised that I had been raised in a thatched hut...” he laughed “We had straw on the floor, because of the hounds, and my father is lord of all our people !

 

   They laughed together, forgetful of Elves and courts and all the weight of civilisation. They were young, attractive, and had been thrown together by the whim of fate. Hador felt his heart warm towards the fair Gildis, and put his hand on hers.

   “Gildis, my lady... I would have you as a friend. If... if it please you.”

   She took his hand and pressed it for a moment, then sat back with a smile.

   “Of course, my dear, though I must say that I had been under the impression that we were friends already !”

   ”I... yes, yes of course. But... I do not think of you as I would the lady Írimë, who is as fine a friend as anyone could wish for. But I could never feel as I do now were I alone with her.”

   “Well, but she is an Elf, I am as Mortal as you, and I cannot read your thought. So you feel at ease with me.” Her face became thoughtful for a moment “But Hador, if ever you need to share your thoughts, or your troubles, I will be there. Indeed, if ever you need the company of Mortals, for however long, come to me, wherever I am, and I will take care of you. Although... I cannot cook !”

   “Truly ? You will be my friend ?” He sighed, it felt less dark, though the sun was still high, and he knew that the darkness was inside him “I have been too long alone among these Elves, with their Oaths and Curses, dragging me into the Shadow with them... I...” he fell silent. She looked at him with concern.

“What happened out there ? Do you wish to confide in me ? I will not break your trust. Please, if it ease you, unburden youself.”

 

   He was silent for a while, searching her face, a part of his mind admired her beauty, but his heart was too troubled to feel more than simple pleasure, as though she were a flower among the flowers.

   “There... It was the Shadow. they sought to determine the focus of His malice, and we rode into what the Elves perceive as darkness. Rochallor bolted. Aegnor and I... It changed us all, it darkened our hearts. Then Fingolfin returned, but the Shadow... After a time it was as though I could see it... no, feel it, myself.” He was silent again. She took his hand, and held it, but did not speak. After a time the darkness lifted, and he blinked around at the bright clearing, the colourful flowers, the still-tempting feast, and the beautiful young musician, holding his hand with harp-calloused fingers.

 

   His heart seemed to open to her as his eyes had done, for the first time. She had been there, close at hand, for a year, and he felt himself to be with a stranger. But instead of the glittering glare of Elven company, and the black darkness that surrounded their world, she was like himself, wholesome and familiar, and moreover lovely and gifted. He thought of her, laughing with another, and the envy he had felt turned to a stab of pain. She would soon be swept away from him, by some clever musician with clever fingers... He gripped her hand as though she would be dragged away from him, but she did not move. He thought of the words of the seer, he thought of his mother, hoping for grandchildren. He thought of coming home, to be greeted by laughing children, his own children. He looked at Gildis and knew that no one else could ever take her place, no one else could ever know what this last year, these last years had meant to him. She had been there. She understood him.

  “No one will ever know me as you do.” He said. She nodded, and pressed his hand. He gave a great sigh, it felt as though, after a long journey, he had at last reached his destination, and could lay down his load.

 

 


End file.
